


Powdered Sugar

by hello_imasalesman



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Fluff, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 04:02:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19455931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hello_imasalesman/pseuds/hello_imasalesman
Summary: Carol and Greta hold movie nights when they can at the restaurant, old holovids projecting pre-war movies on a moth-eaten tarp. The old films are nice, and the snacks even nicer; but Willow thinks her favorite part is sitting next to Tulip.





	Powdered Sugar

Willow can’t help buying a box of fancy lad snack cakes from Greta before the movie starts. It’s hideously overpriced— nearly sixteen caps, double the usual cost, but she appreciates the fact that her and Carol host the movies in the first place, and understands the price hike. Even though the box is damaged, when she pops the weak glue holding the cardboard box together, the cakes are still almost perfectly intact behind the inner plastic packaging, sitting overly powdery and extra sweet inside.

Willow eats one before the film starts, and two more before they’re even past the opening credits. She always knows she should be buying them during intermission, when Greta and Carol turn on the lights and the bar opens up again, but she’s feeling indulgent tonight. She didn’t think she was going to make it at all. Winthrop wasn’t expecting on fixing Cerberus in time to allow her to leave her post in front of the entrance and museum metro but, small miracles, he accomplished it.

There’s eight total in a box. She has half a mind to buy another box and make it her dinner, though she knows her teeth will ache tomorrow if she does.

A whispering hush descends over the crowd as the title card pops up, a trill of trumpets for the opening scene lagging a few seconds behind the film. It’s loud, but not loud enough to cover the sound of Tulip making her way through the crowded rows of seats; the other ghouls grumble and groan, shifting their legs and feet as she warbles apologies and excuses. Even in the dark, she’s obviously pink by the time she reaches the seat next to Willow, quick to sit down on the leather jacket draped seat.

She pulls out another snack cake, package crinkling, leaning in to Tulip.

“Hey,” She whispers. Tulip’s flustered, her auburn hair plastered every which way on her forehead. There must have been a rare last minute customer at the Outfitters. She usually wasn’t late. Willow rustles the box with a shake, nudging the crook of Tulip’s elbow with the corner. “Want one?”

Tulip shrugs, her eyes going wide. “Oh! Okay.” She always seems so surprised that Willow even offers. “Thank you.” They’ve sat next to each other for every screening; and each time, Willow offers, though she’s only taken her up on it the past few movies. It’s a sweet reaction, her small, flattered smile, almost as sweet as the powder that sticks to Tulip’s lips when she takes a bite of one. Willow can pop the entire snack cake in her mouth, one bite; Tulip takes small bites, practically nibbles it, careful of crumbs and waste.

Willow pulls the box back in front of her, turning back to the screen. “Well,” She keeps her voice low, “If you want another one, let me know.”

“Oh no,” Tulip assures, taking another bite. The piece left is comically small in her hands, but she still holds it with both palms turned up. Once she’s done, she’ll lick the powder and crumbs off her hands and fingers. Willow’s not sure if she should be embarrassed she knows this. “That’s alright. But thank you for the offer!”

Willow huffs out a small chuckle, focusing back on the film. There’s a scene where the three men are trying to follow a map, though they realize halfway through that they’ve been reading it upside down, and it promptly turns into an arms flailing slapstick; Willow laughs, and almost doesn’t see Tulip’s wandering arm until her hand bumps into the box. Willow holds it steady for Tulip. Her fingertips brush against Willow’s knuckles before they find the cardboard opening, the crinkling packaging inside. She grabs another snack cake. Willow waits a moment before glancing over. Tulip’s eyes are on her, not the movie projecting onto the sheet, smiling as she eats.

She has to lean in to speak, all too aware they shouldn’t be talking in the first place. They’ve never been shushed, but someone looked like they were going to try, once, and the look Willow leveled at them made it clear in no uncertain terms she’d pitch the ghoul over the median and down into the metro if they tried. “I’ll grab you a Nuka when Greta comes around?” She offers in a whisper.

Something is happening on-screen, but Willow can’t focus on both her and it at the same time. Willow feels like her heart’s going to burst looking at her sometimes. “Yeah, okay.” She’d like to kiss her, now. And also, she wants to kiss her anytime, but especially now, all the powdered sugar and in the low light of the room, the jaunty music of the holovid playing. “We can share one.” Sharing a soda feels like second-best, but a close enough approximation, a kiss by proxy. Tulip just smiles her shy agreement, eyes flashing bright in the flickering lights of the projector, and takes another bite.


End file.
